Benedictus Figulus, Insignia Doctoris Martini Lutheri, no date (1600) (BP.Figulus.1600-01)

Author:	Benedictus Figulus
Title:	Insignia Doctoris Martini Lutheri
Type:	Other Text
Date:	no date [1600]
Pages:	1
Language:	Latin

Quote as:

https://www.theatrum-paracelsicum.com/index.php?curid=3057

Editor:	Edited by Julian Paulus
Source:	Benedictus Figulus, Carmen Heroicum Insignia Megalandri Lutheri complectens, Stuttgart: Marx Fürster 1600, sig. A2v–A4v [BP.Figulus.1600-01]

Translation:

Raw translation see below

Abstract:

The poem celebrates the profound significance of the Cross and the salvation it symbolizes through Christ. It urges believers to rejoice in the Lord and find solace in the divine. The Cross is depicted as the source of all goodness and the singular beacon of hope for the devout. These believers are likened to roses, drawing peace and protection from their faith, especially amidst life's adversities. The narrative underscores the Cross's protective nature. Even when faced with life's harshest challenges, the righteous remain steadfast, their faith acting as a shield against worldly turmoil. The Cross isn't just wood; it's described as a purified golden emblem, emphasizing its divine significance. The poem culminates in highlighting the eternal joys awaiting believers, made possible by Christ's sacrifice. These joys are undying, enduring through all adversities. The overarching message is one of hope, resilience, and the transformative power of faith. (generated by Chat-GPT)

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[sig. A2v] Insignia D[octoris] M[artini] Lvtheri, piæ et sanctae memoriæ, carmine expressa heroico.

Nvnc quoniam (Multum mihi de venerande Patrone,
Magne nouenarum Dux Am-Waldine Dearum,
Inclyte Appollineæ Præses, fax, stalla cateruæ:
Qui reliquis Medicis, re, factis, laudibus amplis
Altior existis, famaque celebrior orbe)
Vndique circumstant nos sæua pericla malorum,
Et Deus irarum plenas effundi habenas,
Dum Cœlum tonat, aura sonat, tellusque remugit,
Sanguinolentus & vndique Mars sua fulmina torquet.
Et iam iamque polo misceri terra videtur:
Vinceret hic Niobes saxum, vel Tigridis ortum,
Certaretque animo rabida cum gente Leonum,
Cui non mens concussa malis in turbine tanto
Contremeret, vel qui non publica damna doleret,
Vulnera nec sacri cœtus, clademque futuram
Penderet, aut animo sentiret fata sagaci.
Sed ne spes omnis sit fracta & meta salutis,
Nec Gens sacra putet, se cassum in vota vocare
Authorem Fidei, & vitae super astra datorem:
Mens est confirmare animos hoc turbine mæstos
Insigni insignis Vatis, qui symbola docta,
Christicolis, magnis facits, atque arte reliquit,
Inter & insidias mundi, sortisque procellas
Euasit tutus Verbi munimine sacri
Ceu forti cinctus Clypeo, palmamque recepit,
Ergo adsis mihi conanti tu Numine dio
Qui, pie Christe, tuum iuuisti Numine Vatem,
[sig. A3r] Vatem magnanimum, pietate per æthera notum
Diuum Lutherum, mundi velut vltimum Eliam.
Et tu vir, multa pietate colende, fideque,
Inclyte Mecænas longa dignissime vita:
Æquo animo, ac hilari mea dicta capessito fronte.
Præsul vt Ausonius cum Cæsare, & ordine raso
Et mundi furiosa cohors, & Numina Auerni
Contra Lutherum belli violenta pararent
Prælia, & auderent Diuini fulmina Verbi
Supprimere, ac penitus subuertere Iura salutis:
Menta Leonina contra hic audentior ibat,
Ac spe Diuina fretus sua damna leuabat.
Nam spes illius, ac animi fiducia sola
Fixa recumbebat diuino in Numine Christi:
Propterea insigni tali vir fortis ouabat.
Cœruleo in Clypeo Rosa candida flore venusto
Stabat suaueolens, quam non confundere venti
Aura susurrantis poterat nec floris honorem
Decutere aut suauem illius corrumpere odorem.
Deinde corona Rosam viridi velabat amictu,
Inque Rosæ medio lucebat cordis imago
Ac in corde illo crux aurea fixa nitebat,
Vmbonem at Clypei ornabant hæc verba Figuris
Sculpta nouis, signant quæ symbola docta piorum:
Cor cruce confixum media sub mole dolorum
Sentit opem Christi, & Rosulæ diffundi odorem.
Iam verò causas aperi mihi Musa latentes,
Et memora, insigni cur hoc vir fortis ouarit?
Quidue notent culti picturæ in imagine scuti?
Quidue Rosa hæc niueo depingat floris honore?
Et Rosa quid suaui designet floris odore?
Nonnè notat nobis Christum, qui Ieniter auras
Spirat odoriferas, & flammas spargit Amoris
Ætherias, hominumque animos dulcedine mira
Afficit, & querulos remouet de corde dolores.
[sig. A3v] : Tu Rosa Sancta, Deus, nulla violata pruina
Diceris, & mentis diuinæ effundis Amores.
Tu peccata hominum, tu noxia Crimina Mundi
Tollis, & indomiti submergis in æquoris vndas.
Spes mea, Christe, mei sincere ô pectoris ardor,
Tu Candore Rosas superas, & candida Solis
Lumina, tu stimulos, & acerbæ spicula mortis
Frangis, & astrigeræ rursum nos asseris aulæ.
Ergò agite huc omnes, celeri pede currite, passim
Accelerate, quid ô saltem dubitatis inertes?
Quisquis ades, citó rumpe moras, non fallet euntem
Te via, quæ Christi roseo est rata facta cruore,
Suscipite ò populi hunc animo, plausumque celebrem
Edite voce alta, vestri penetralia cordis
Lætitiâ exultent, ac audiat æthra triumphum.

Gaudeat in Domino Cor vestrum: ô sidite flori,
Erigite hîc animos, vestram fundate Salutem
Huius in auxilium, de cuius vulnere manat
Omne bonum, & de quo pendet spes vnica nostra,
Omnibus hicce pijs iucundi habitacula cordis
Præbet, in augustis qui rebus corda Rosarum
Floribus insinuant, & floris odore quiescunt.
In te Christe Deus, roseo qui sanguine roras
Reclino mentem, & mea mens tranquilla quiescit.
Et licet ægra Crucis moles, & magna malorum
Copia circumstet, simul ac densissimus Imber
Vrgeat hic Iustos, rerum & discrimina mille
Circumdent latus illorum, & ceu mœnia cingant:
Non tamen ad scopulos allident corda piorum.
Non animi vires rabiosa potentia mundi
Confringet, iustis non vlla ruina nocebit,
Spes hos alma fouet, lucisque reducit in oras.
Nam Rosa cœlestis de Summo consita Patre
Offert subsidium cassis ope, & agmen inerme,
Viribus humanis nudatum, & robore Martis,
[sig. A4r] Defensum præstat, nec sunt, qui tendere contrà
Sufficiant, iræue globos effundere in illud.
Hæc animos reficit pressos mœrore malorum,
Hæc animi lenit curas, hæc robora præstat
Mentibus humanis, & vires sufficit ægris;
Si modò si nostris animis supponimus illam,
Et quo Crux grauior mortales corripit ægros,
Ac quò plus homines Fortuna molestat iniqua,
Auxilium fit eo præsentius, atque medela
Certior efficitur, quæturbida pectora lenit.
Præterea non Mygdonio de marmore facta est
Crux, nec Caucas ea de caute, aut rupe Sionis,
Nec scopulo ex illo, quem Mosis dextera soluit
Incussu Baculi, de quo mox copia dulcis
Fluxit aquæ, & laticis manauit vena perennis.
Verùm pura fuit preciosi massa metalli,
Massa ex vmbriferis terrarum effossa cauernis,
Aurifaber solers quam prensam forcipe curuâ,
Ter, quater, igne probat, lacubusque immittit & indè
Educens puram, labe omni & fece carentem.
Tum demum crucis effigiem concinnat in arctam.
Salue ergò æternum Crux, ô Crux Aurea Salue
Salue, & me donis exutum, & honoribus orbum
Erige, & aduersæ sortis compesce boatus.
Nam Deus ipse suo fecit te sanguine mundam,
Fecit & auratam te, cum trabe fixus ab alta,
Singula subtristi luxatus membra dolore,
Purpuream cum vitâ animam exhalarèt in auras.
Ergò quis negliget cœlestis gaudia vitæ?
Gaudia purpureo Christi reparata cruore?
Gaudia perpetuum nobis mansura sub æuum?
Gaudia perpetuis non marcescentia seclis?
Quid dicam vlterius? Num copia dura malorum
Opprimet hîc iustos? nec erit qui dura leuaret
Pondera? num sub mole Crucis mens ægra fatiscet?
Aut spes Iustorum patietur forte ruinam?
[sig. A4v] Non sic: in iustos nam cum sors aspera grassans
Multis imperiosa modis, sæuo impete torquet
Fulmina, flammarumque globos iræque procllas,
Tum tuti resident Clypei munimine tecti,
Nec spes illorum, nec honor sub sorte labascit
Aduersa, mage sed vernat, crescitque premendo.

English Raw Translation

Generated by ChatGPT-4 on 20 August 2023. Attention: This translation is a machine translation by artificial intelligence. The translation has not been checked and should not be cited without additional human verification.

The Emblem of Doctor Martin Luther, of pious and holy memory, expressed in heroic verse.

Now since (Much to me about the venerable Patron,
Great leader of the nine Am-Waldine Goddesses,
Illustrious President of Apollo's group, torch, starry host:
Who among other physicians, in deed, actions, and broad praises
You stand taller, and more famous in the world)
Dangers of evils surround us from all sides,
And God pours out reins full of wrath,
While Heaven thunders, the breeze sounds, and the earth roars,
Mars, bloodthirsty, hurls his bolts from every side.
And now, now the earth seems to mix with the sky:
Here would surpass the stone of Niobe, or the birth of the Tigris,
And would compete in spirit with a rabid tribe of lions,
Whose mind, shaken by such great evils,
Would not tremble, or who would not grieve public losses,
Nor anticipate the wounds of the sacred assembly, and the impending disaster,
Or perceive the fates with a keen mind.
But lest all hope be broken and the goal of salvation lost,
Nor let the holy people think they call in vain
The Author of Faith, and the giver of life beyond the stars:
The intention is to strengthen the spirits saddened by this storm
With the emblem of the notable Prophet, who left learned symbols,
For Christians, with great deeds and skill,
And amidst the world's snares and the storms of fate
Escaped safely by the protection of the sacred Word
As if girded with a strong Shield, and received the palm.
So assist me in my attempt with your divine power,
You, pious Christ, who aided your Prophet with your divine power,
A courageous prophet, known for piety through the heavens,
Divine Luther, like the last Elijah of the world.
And you, man, to be revered with much piety and faith,
Illustrious Maecenas, most worthy of a long life:
With an even mind, and a cheerful face, undertake my words.
As the Ausonian bishop with Caesar, and with the shaved order,
And the world's mad troop, and the deities of the underworld
Prepared violent wars against Luther
And dared to suppress the thunderbolts of the Divine Word,
And to completely overthrow the rights of salvation:
Against these, he went forth more boldly with a lion's courage,
And relying on Divine hope, he alleviated his losses.
For his hope, and his sole confidence
Lay fixed in the divine power of Christ:
Therefore, the brave man adorned with such an emblem.
On a blue Shield, a white Rose with a charming bloom
Stood fragrant, which neither the winds
Of whispering breezes could confuse nor the honor of the flower
Shake off or corrupt its sweet scent.
Then a crown veiled the Rose with a green cloak,
And in the middle of the Rose shone the image of a heart
And in that heart, a golden cross brightly stood,
These words adorned the boss of the Shield with new figures,
Carved, which mark the learned symbols of the pious:
The heart pierced by the cross under the weight of sorrows
Feels the help of Christ, and the spreading scent of the Rose.
Now, Muse, reveal to me the hidden reasons,
And remember, why the brave man adorned with this emblem?
What do the cultivated images on the shield signify?
What does this Rose depict with the honor of its snowy bloom?
And what does the Rose signify with its sweet scent?
Doesn't it show us Christ, who gently breathes
Fragrant breezes, and scatters the flames of heavenly Love,
And affects the souls of men with wonderful sweetness,
And removes mournful sorrows from the heart.
You, Holy Rose, God, untouched by any frost,
Are called, and you pour out the Loves of the divine mind.
You take away the sins of men, the harmful Crimes of the World,
And submerge them in the waves of the untamed sea.
My hope, Christ, sincere ardor of my heart,
You surpass Roses in whiteness, and the bright
Lights of the Sun, you break the stings, and the bitter darts of death,
And you claim us again for the starry palace.
So come here, all of you, run with swift feet, everywhere,
Hurry, why do you hesitate, being idle?
Whoever you are, quickly break the delays, the way will not deceive you,
Which is made sure by the rosy blood of Christ,
Accept this in your heart, O people, and give a celebrated applause
With a loud voice, let the innermost parts of your heart
Rejoice in joy, and let the ether hear the triumph.

Let your heart rejoice in the Lord: O, sit by the flower,
Lift up your spirits here, lay down your salvation
In his aid, from whose wound flows
Every good, and on whom our only hope depends,
To all the pious, he offers pleasant dwellings of the heart,
Who in solemn matters insert their hearts into the flowers of Roses,
And rest in the scent of the flower.
In you, Christ God, who sprinkle with rosy blood,
I lean my mind, and my mind rests peacefully.
And although the heavy weight of the Cross and a great multitude of evils
Surround, and a very dense rain
Presses the righteous, and a thousand dangers
Surround their side, and as walls encircle:
Yet the hearts of the pious will not crash into rocks.
The furious power of the world will not
Break the spirit's strength, no ruin will harm the just,
Kind hope nurtures them and brings them back to the shores of light.
For the heavenly Rose, planted by the Highest Father,
Offers aid with its power, and an unarmed troop,
Stripped of human strengths and the vigor of Mars,
It provides defense, and there are none who can oppose
Or pour out spheres of wrath against it.
It revives spirits oppressed by the sorrow of evils,
It soothes the cares of the mind, it provides strength
To human minds, and supplies strength to the sick;
If only we place it in our spirits,
And the heavier the Cross seizes sick mortals,
And the more Fortune troubles men unjustly,
The more present the aid becomes, and the remedy
Becomes more certain, which soothes troubled hearts.
Moreover, the Cross was not made of Mygdonian marble,
Nor from a Caucasus rock, or the rock of Zion,
Nor from that rock which Moses' right hand struck
With a staff's blow, from which soon a sweet
Flow of water came, and a perennial stream flowed.
But it was a pure mass of precious metal,
A mass dug from the shadowy caverns of the earth,
Which a skilled goldsmith, grasping with curved tongs,
Tests three, four times in fire, and plunges into basins and then
Bringing it out pure, free from all stain and dross.
Then he finally shapes it into the tight form of a cross.
Hail then, eternal Cross, O Golden Cross, Hail!
Hail, and raise me, stripped of gifts and bereft of honors,
And suppress the complaints of adverse fate.
For God himself made you pure with his blood,
And made you golden, when, fixed on a high beam,
He twisted each limb in sorrowful pain,
As he breathed out his purple life into the breezes.
So, who will neglect the joys of heavenly life?
Joys restored by Christ's purple blood?
Joys that will remain with us forever?
Joys that will not wither for eternal ages?
What more can I say? Will the harsh multitude of evils
Oppress the just here? And will there be no one to relieve the heavy
Weights? Will the sick mind faint under the weight of the Cross?
Or will the hope of the righteous perhaps suffer ruin?
Not so: for when harsh fate, attacking the just,
In many powerful ways, hurls
Thunderbolts, balls of fire, and storms of wrath,
Then they sit safe, protected by the shield's defense,
Neither their hope nor honor diminishes under adverse fate,
But rather it flourishes and grows by being pressed.